


Nancy Wheeler's Guide to Falling In Love the Wrong Way

by Winter in Autumn (TearoomSaloon)



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Character Study, Developing Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Season One into Season Two and Beyond, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-01-31 10:39:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12680214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearoomSaloon/pseuds/Winter%20in%20Autumn
Summary: There were things Nancy was good at, like school, monster-hunting, and volleyball.Then there were things she was bad at, like understanding her emotions, handling her liquor, and developing feelings for the guy she wasn't saying 'I love you' to.





	1. Step 1. Develop Subconscious Feelings for Your Monster-Hunting Companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First, you have to jump into another relationship. Then, noticing your mistake, you have to bury your feelings until you don't recognize that they're feelings at all.

It all started in the third grade when Jonathan Byers refused to be her friend. Their brothers were best friends, so it only made sense to Nancy that they would be too. She was determined to be friends with everyone in her class—and she was almost successful, save for Jonathan. He wanted to be left alone with his comic books and, begrudgingly, Nancy let him. She’d try again later, she figured. Some other day, some other year.

She watched him, curious, all fourth and fifth grade. He never seemed to speak to anyone else, never came to the surface, never breached through the waves of his own world. Where she had Barb, he had no one, and she felt pity for the poor loner with the bowl cut.

Middle school was rough. Jonathan got beat up more than once. Her heart ached a little to see the bruises on his arms but she stayed out of it. Nancy told herself she wasn’t a fighter, and this wasn’t her battle. There was no reason to protect Mike’s friend’s older brother. They were nothing to each other—only strangers.

High school started and Nancy had so many friends. She found it odd that she’d said so few words to Byers over the years. He was at her house frequently to pick up his brother, but the most they ever shared was an accidental glance. She’d meant to say something to him before this whole mess started, maybe a hello, a what’s up—anything to start the conversation.

It took the disappearance of Will for her to reach out, and the loss of Barb to let her gates come crashing open, to let the dam break.

“I think this is the most we’ve ever spoken, these past few days,” she said quietly after she’d stopped shaking from the monster in the woods. He was warm beside her and she was cold, wet, _tainted_.

“I think you’re right.” He laid his jacket across her shoulders. “Do you need anything?”

“A shower.”

A hot one, something to free this chill from her bones. To forget the darkness she’d seen, how awful that hellscape had been. Barb was trapped there—had been, god, was she still alive? Was she okay?

The thoughts ate at her when she closed her eyes beside him, trying to get some sleep. It was burned into her eyelids, that _thing_ , the monster that had been hunting her—

“Nancy.”

His voice was soft, like it had been the first time she’d ever heard him speak. She rolled onto her side, opened one eye. “Yeah?”

“It’s going to be okay. You’re safe with me.”

Safe.

She inched closer, knowing deep in her chest she shouldn’t, that she shouldn’t have asked him to lie next to her, to come with her to the woods. She took his hand in hers, more out of a need for safety than anything, though the buzzing in her veins spoke of a different comfort.

In the morning, she was closer to his chest, his breath ghosting across her ear, her hair. She stayed there a moment too long, pressed against the heat of his body, the security of his bones. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend he was Steve, that none of this had ever happened, that Barb was safe.

But Jonathan wasn’t Steve, all of this had happened, and Barb was missing. He, too, lingered too closely for a minute too long before slipping carefully off her bed. Jonathan slunk back home in the early, early morning, leaving without knowing she was awake, leaving her to brace the sunlight and November chill by herself.

He was definitely the weirdest thing about this. Weirder still was that she stayed at his side after he broke her boyfriend’s face open, rage coursing through him like molten iron. His mind seemed fuzzy as she held ice to his equally battered face.

They saw each other less and less once Will returned. It seemed like there wasn’t much reason to hang out if life was normal again, and Nancy told herself it was. Being friends with Jonathan didn’t fit into normal life and they drifted. A few weekends in the winter, when the leaves had all fallen and snow coated the ground, she’d called him too late at night, roused by a horrible nightmare.

She should have called Steve. It would have made more sense, phoning her boyfriend to make her feel comforted, but instead her fingers instinctively dialed the Byers’ house, nerves on edge until his voice came across the speaker.

He never expected it to be Mike calling for Will. “Nancy?”

“I had another bad dream.” Her voice sounded so choked, so pitiful and scared.

"Do you want me to come over?”

“If you could.”

He always could. He climbed through her window with snow on his boots and frost on his breath. His arms were warm, his chest a bastion, and she crumpled into him, the fear pulsing at the back of her mind starting to dissipate.

"You’re safe here, Nance.”

“I know, but Barb—”

“It’s not your fault.” He walked her to her bed, sat beside her, rubbed her back. “None of it is.”

“But it _is_.”

“It’s not. You couldn’t have imagined any of it would happen. You’re still safe, I’ve got you.”

She curled against him to sleep, her arms around his neck, his legs tangled with hers. It was platonic on the surface, sure, but a whisper of something deeper still lingered, catching her heart in an odd, painful way. He’d tell her soft things until she drifted off again, like how brave she was, how strong. Sometimes it would be stories he made up, or memories from when they were small.

“You were the only one to give me a valentine in third grade,” he admitted on one of her hellish, sleepless nights.

“That’s not true.”

“It is too. I don’t think I ever spoke to anyone but you that year.”

"You barely spoke at all.”

He hummed and reached to brush hair from his face, accidentally skimming her arm. Electricity crackled down her spine. “I still barely speak to anyone but you.”

She slept peacefully when he was near. He was like a charm to ward off evil, his presence giving her enough comfort to relax and give in to exhaustion. He wouldn’t leave until the sun began to rise and even then, only if she were awake. He was soft in a way Steve wasn’t and in the haziness of the morning, she thought that’s why she called him instead; he was capable of being delicate.

In school, they passed each other without a word. Sometimes she smiled at him, sometimes he gave her a nod, but words fell like stones into an abyss of ‘we’re not discussing what this is.’ Whatever it was couldn’t last, not when she was preoccupied with keeping up appearances and he devoted so much energy to Will.

April was her worst month.

She’d never liked the mud, but now there was an annoyance in her day greater than rain boots. There was a girl talking to Jonathan Byers and for once, it wasn’t Nancy Wheeler. Her name was Marissa—or Melissa, Nancy never had the desire to learn it properly. This girl made Jonathan smile in a way Nancy had never seen and it was crushing. Why, she couldn’t guess, but it felt backstabbing and purposeful.

“Even freaks can get pussy,” she overheard Carol sneer in the girl’s locker room. She had half a mind to punch the ginger twit, but Nancy had no need for this intruder to think she was standing up for her. Especially when she couldn’t figure out whom she was angrier with, or _why_ she was so mad.

She glanced over to see them kiss at his locker one Wednesday. Jealousy rose like bile in her throat even as Steve put his arm around her shoulders. “I guess it was only a matter of time before Byers got lucky.”

“I guess,” she offered weakly, her voice strangled. She wanted to be happy for him—really, she did—but every time she faked a smile and asked after Melinda or Marissa or whatever, she felt a hollowness creep through her ribs and infect her bloodstream.

Jonathan was scarce over the summer, always at work. Nancy was working too, but not nearly as much. She saw Steve, she had sleepovers with Allie and Stacy, and she conveniently never ran into Jonathan’s girlfriend. She didn’t know if they were dating actually—hadn’t had the guts to ask, or the strength to deal with the answer.

Come the fall, he was suspiciously alone in the school halls, back to his quiet usual self. Back to normal, she realized in relief.

“It didn’t work out,” he offered in explanation. “Turns out I’m not really into alt girls.”

“Then what are you into?”

“I’m not sure.” He shrugged like he was hiding a secret. “I’ve got time to figure it out.”

His answer left her feeling lighter, airy. He gave her a smile before he made his way to class, her attention on the breadth of his shoulders and the way her heartbeat seemed to thunder like wild horses in her ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nancy baby what is you doin'


	2. Step 2. Get Drunk, Fight with Your Boyfriend, then Break His Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next you have to get drunk and admit everything you've been holding back, admit to every single lie you've been telling. After that, make sure the guy you swear you don't have feelings for takes you home—you know, to make all this look worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a really dialogue-heavy writer most of the time, so this is an odd change of pace. It'll be mostly new content after this chapter.

She found her thoughts lingering to Jonathan more often as the tail end of summer bled into autumn. When the question of the Tina’s Halloween party arose, she wasn’t going to take a no from him.

“You might even meet someone,” she said with a faked smile, not believing her own words. He wasn’t unattractive—in fact, the more Nancy studied him, the more she couldn’t understand why girls weren’t clawing at his pants. If he made an effort, it was without question that Jonathan Byers would land another girlfriend, and then Nancy would have to throw herself out a window.

"I’m not really looking,” he told her later as they sat across from each other during study hall.

“Why not?”

“I have other things to focus on at the moment. Relationships are a real time drain, aren’t they?”

She nodded. “Yeah, incredibly.”

When the night arrived, she fully intended to have a good time. Maybe she was just bitter. Maybe she had two or three too many drinks. She definitely shouldn’t have torn into Steve, and she really shouldn’t have called everything bullshit instead of apologizing or reassuring him.

She didn’t have it in her.

There was a knock on the bathroom door as she tried to steady herself against the counter. Balance was a thing of the past, her vision slurring nearly as much as her words.

“Nancy?”

“It’s open.”

Jonathan locked the door behind him, sucking in a breath at how much of a hot mess she was. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head, biting her cheek to keep the choking tightness in her throat down. To keep the hitch in her voice inaudible.

Hair stuck to her nose and he brushed it away, crackling static catching like fire down her skin. She wished she weren’t so fucking hammered so she could read the emotion on his face better.

She wanted to give him some sort of explanation, say anything to get him to judge her less. “Barb—”

He put his hands on her shoulders to stabilize her, his grip gentle but firm. It forced her to look up into his eyes and, god, had he always been this beautiful? “It’s going to be okay, Nance. Let me take you home.”

There were definitely looks as she tripped over herself, Jonathan’s arm hard around her waist. Heels were a poor decision, alcohol was a poor decision, Steve was a poor decision. There were so many rumors about her and Jonathan that getting practically carried to his car after Steve had stormed off was only going to add more fuel to the gossip bonfire.

Nancy might have leaned too heavily into him as he tried to help her to her house and up the stairs. He was warm, the October chill was sneaking through her wet sweater, and loneliness had started to creep down her spine. Jonathan Byers had also begun to take up a rather large section in the red space between her ribs. He laid her down gently, took her boots off with more care than she would, and tucked her in. He was too good for her and she reached out for him, scared of being alone, of the nightmares that had started to torment her sleep once more.

She wanted to ask him to stay, to keep the monsters at bay the way he had last winter, to hold her if only for a split second, something to calm her down. Her uncoordinated mouth acted before she could think and all she managed was to say his name pleadingly before passing out.

Waking up was rough, her clothes still clinging wrinkled to her body, her socks on, her hair an utter mess, and her makeup smeared. She couldn’t remember anything past spilling her drink, brain fuzzy and mind blank. A shower didn’t help with the memory recovery, she could barely stomach food at breakfast, and to top this disaster off, Steve never showed—she wound up missing an entire class. She _never_ missed class.

Nancy felt sick to her stomach for most of the day. She knew they’d had an argument, but was it bad enough to get ditched? She cornered him during his gym period to find out that yes, it was that bad. She’d admitted things to Steve she hadn’t even come to terms with herself, or thought she hadn’t. When he spit Jonathan’s name, called him her second boyfriend, she felt a combination of dread, anger, and nerves pool in her core. Jonathan had taken her home, tucked her in to sleep, had made sure she didn’t end up killing herself trying to get up the stairs while so drunk she blacked out.

Fuck.

At lunch, Jonathan covered so sweetly for Steve, that it had been his idea for Jonathan to take her home. That he was just worried about her, that what she said while wasted didn’t condemn her. She wanted to believe Steve had asked, but a part of her in the back of her skull scoffed. Jonathan had always stayed a cautious arm’s length away from her relationship and would absolutely lie to cover for her boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend? Was that a breakup fight, or just a fight? She didn’t want to know now; she had plans to hatch, to knock out one source of her unending stress. It was time to let the Hollands know what happened to Barb.

He held her hand when she hung up the phone with Mrs. Holland, her fingers shaking, her thoughts jittery. They shared a smile before he took his hand back and before she buried her own in the fabric of her turtleneck.

They agreed to leave Friday morning. Nancy was determined, Jonathan was willing to help, and that’s all she needed.

They didn’t discuss sleeping arrangements beforehand, but seemed to be on the same page. Seeing his scar again brought back the night they’d fought off the Demogorgon—an unlikely pair, an unconventional team. Their thumbs brushed and her heart leapt up her throat, pushing Nancy to roll onto her opposite side.

 _Do you have feelings for me?_ She asked him in a dream, where he was nothing but a figment of her imagination, a speck of make-believe to keep her heart beating in one piece. She knew her answer—it was no, she didn’t, she couldn’t, it wasn’t fair. It was a lie, but telling it made her feel less guilty.

Murray pushed them to act.

Nancy Wheeler did not retreat and she kissed with the ferocity of a lion. Jonathan’s arms were like pillars around her, crushing her to his chest. She acted on autopilot, hands finding their way through his hair, circling around his neck. His face blurred out of her mind and she went through motions without thinking, pushing him onto the bed, straddling his hips.

“Nancy.”

She reached for the hem of his shirt, lips dragging across his jaw.

“Nancy.”

His skin was warm under her fingers but unfamiliar.

“ _Nancy_.”

She stopped, breaking from a trance. Jonathan was flushed under her, hands on her hips, forcing her to sit up. He looked…panicked. Tense.

“I’m not…I’m not ready, to, you know.” He swallowed dryly.

She cocked her head and knit her eyebrows together.

“It’s, um…That’s one of the reasons Melissa and I broke up. She thought I’d be easy.”

Nancy took her hands back from his chest. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” She moved to stand. “We can switch rooms—”

He pulled her down gently, their faces close. “I’m not opposed to other things, I just wanted you to know I won’t go that far. At least, not tonight.”

Her smirk was devilish. She knew she was more than capable with her mouth. She made note of the feeling of his skin under her lips as she kissed down his stomach. She went back on autopilot, mind lost as her fingers and tongue knew the best way to get his toes to curl and his breath to come in short.

He tasted better than she expected and she lay wearily beside him as he caught his breath, his eyes shut tightly. In return, she had the life kissed out of her, followed by an offer to return the favor.

"I’m exhausted,” she said in lieu of a full decline. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“Of course.” He turned off the light before wrapping himself so close that she felt as though he was trying to hide, buried in her arms.

“Hey Jonathan?”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Hey Nancy?”

“How long have you wanted to kiss me?”

“Longer than I’ll admit. How long have you been denying your feelings?”

“Denying?”

He rolled his eyes. “Everyone but you can see it. That’s one reason I got into a relationship last year; maybe if you didn’t see me as available, I’d get over you and you’d have focused on Steve.”

“But I never loved Steve.” Admitting that felt…relieving.

"I never loved Melissa.”

“Did you want to?”

“No.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ve wanted this since we first got to know each other, you and me.”

“I have too.”

They kissed until they fell asleep, arms and legs tangled, endorphins coursing through their veins. Her dreams were calm and pleasant, full of Jonathan’s grin, the one that he only wore if he thought he were alone. She would devour him given the chance. His gentleness, his soft, caring eyes, the safety he made her feel—he was hers now.

They were in the car on their way to the Byers’ house before they spoke on the night. There was a knot in Nancy’s chest, no longer mildly tipsy on vodka and Jonathan’s touch. Indianapolis had been an escape from reality and now they had to go back to the normal again.

“What now?”

She glanced from the road to Jonathan’s profile, eyes caught on the way his hair fell messily around his face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do we do now? I don’t want to be a thought in the back of your head if you decide to return to Steve—”

“I’m not.” Not after last night, not after finally getting what she wanted—what she’d been denying herself for over a year. Not after learning Jonathan wanted her back. “You’re a thought at the front of my mind, not the back.”

The grin that spread across his face was intoxicating, the way happiness looked on his features. “I’d like to have you, if you’ll have me.”

“I would. We can have a long talk about this when we get back to Hawkins.”

“It’ll have to be over coffee; I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Nancy chuckled and reached for his hand not on the steering wheel. This felt right. For the first time in so many months, life felt right again. Of course, things couldn’t stay that way—wouldn’t stay normal, ever—but it was a nice reprieve before diving back into the weirdness and panic that waited in a few hours’ time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a total cop-out with the scene at Murray's, I know. I just feel like Nancy's too level-headed to do anything without condoms and Jonathan doesn't seem like the type to hook up that quickly with so many unknown variables—even if he's been waiting for this.
> 
> There'll be something more intimate later, promises.


End file.
